Afterlife
by drellassassin
Summary: Sequel to "Trust Me, I Tried". After the war starts, and their numbers dwindle, each member finds themselves waking up in a very familiar place, forced to deal with a life after death. (Implied relationships, etc. Includes all members of Dethklok, and a few others.)
1. Chapter 1

This is a pseudo-sequel to "Trust Me, I Tried", essentially taking that short story and expanding on it (and elaborating as it were). I recommend reading "Trust Me, I Tried" before reading this!

**Warning:** Contains major character deaths, weird lore, and sometimes bad jokes.

* * *

**Chapter One**

What William remembered first was waking up.

His eyes opened slowly and adjusted to the room around him, and it took a moment for him to realize that he was exactly where he was when he blacked out.

Except, no one else was here.

Well. That didn't make much fucking sense.

The screen was down at the far end of the wall, flickering with a white static noise that wasn't changing. There was no sound, but he was thankful for that. He didn't need to hear the static. That was the worst part about falling asleep with the TV on.

Only…he hadn't fallen asleep with the TV on. He wasn't even in his bedroom.

He was in the band's meeting room.

This was where he blacked out.

He remembered it now, he was sitting where he was now, playing with his knife, waiting for their meeting to start. There was no sign of their new manager. No sign of any manager for a long time now, so people were goofing off.

Toki and Skwisgaar were on their side of the table, Skwisgaar messing around with his Gibson like he always did, and Toki was on his phone.

Pickles was drinking a beer, but wouldn't give William one. Nathan was writing something down in a notebook and occasionally checking his phone, mostly keeping to himself.

They were sitting there waiting for a while, and William was about to complain about their new manager not showing up, but that thought died off really fast.

Then men dressed in black came crashing through the windows of the room, and a fight started to break out.

Skwisgaar started to hit guys off with his guitar. Pickles and Nathan were throwing punches. Toki kicked a few guys and started to beat on them on the ground.

A man came up to William and grabbed his left arm hard, ripping off the bandage that surrounded his wrist, and the man pressed his thumb into William's cut, making it bleed.

Purple. It bled purple.

Then, William blacked out.

Then, William woke up in the same room.

"Fuck this," He muttered, standing up from his chair, and moved past all the other chairs, nicely pushed in against the table, and went to the door.

He opened it and walked through, only to find himself in the exact same room. "What?"

He went back to the door and opened it, and again found himself entering the door from the far end of the room. This happened a few times, before he screamed "What the fuck is going on!?"

"My friend, screaming will not help you."

William jumped at the sound of the voice behind him and he turned towards the table to see the priest guy sitting in what was normally Charles'– erm, their new manager's seat. "Please, sit down."

"What the fuck, how did you get in here?"

"I used the door. Please, sit down."

William's eyes narrowed, but he did so anyway, sitting back down in his original seat. "What the fuck is going on?"

"My friend, I'm afraid you have died."

Rolling his eyes, William crossed his arms over his chest, "_Psh_. Yeah. Right. Like I'm supposed to believe that!"

Ishnifus – was that his name? William couldn't quite remember but it seemed right in his head – turned on the screen behind him.

The white static turned off and what turned on was commotion. There was fighting. Actually, it was the fight that he remembered before. Except, he was there.

He was there, fighting _against_ everyone and with the strange ninja-like men. It was like he was watching a movie, but he was in it.

"What the fuck is this?"

"Someone has taken you over, and now you fight for the other side." The Priest said, sitting tall in what was once Charles' seat, his hands clasped over each other on the table. Ishnifus' back was to the video, _We have to go!_ Nathan's voice came through the video, punching a guy who tried to get in his way, _We have to go! Now!_

On the screen, Nathan and Pickles were fighting their way through towards the door, knocking a few guys out in the process. Skwisgaar was using his guitar as a weapon as much as he could, able to seriously harm some of the guys, and called out for Toki.

Toki was fighting the best that he could, but Skwisgaar couldn't get to him in time. Toki screamed in pain as a knife went through his heart.

William knew that knife.

It was his.

"Turn it off!" He screamed, but the man in the robes didn't budge, and William slammed his fist into the table.

The man sitting in Charles' chair simply turned around to face the screen, and even though William didn't want to watch, he did.

_"Toki!" Skwisgaar screamed, his eyes trained now on Murderface, though he knew enough to know that wasn't really him. "Yous fuckings bastard, I'll kills you!" Skwisgaar lunged forward, but was stopped by Nathan. _

_"No, Skwisgaar! We have to go. We have to go." Nathan's hands grabbed at Skwisgaar, and soon Pickles was there, pulling back the screaming guitarist, struggling against his bandmates trying to make an escape. _

_The three of them fled the room, Skwisgaar leaving his guitar behind, as the traitor was soon surrounded by the mysterious men. He wasn't killed though, instead, one of the men handed him a match book, and the traitor lit a match and set the room on fire._

At this point, William closed his eyes and looked away. Was he being punished for something he didn't know he did?

"That wasn't you, my friend." It was as if Ishnifus read his mind, and William opened his eyes, looking up at the other man. "A long time ago, you were infected, and these men activated that. Who you are...died when that happened."

The bassist – could he even be called that anymore? – looked down to his left wrist and pulled back the bandage that was there to find there wasn't a mark on his skin anymore. "So...when did this happen?"

"Right when you woke up."

William stayed silent for a moment, trying to formulate a good thought. Nothing was coming.

"But Toki..." He started, but Ishnifus just turned around to face him again, and nodded.

"He'll be here soon."

"Oh..." He started to say something else, but William's voice hesitated, as he watched on the screen that the room he was in was fully on fire. He looked around the room he was in now, to see that it wasn't.

This wasn't the easiest thing to understand.

The screen shifted to following the four men who survived now, but William couldn't watch it. He didn't want to watch it.

It was one thing to believe that he was dead. It was another to believe that he was now 'watching over' everyone else. Though, it wasn't really watching 'over' as it was just watching. He wasn't in heaven, that's was for sure. But there was something for certain.

They had lives.

He didn't.

Fuck, this sucked.

When Toki woke up, he was on the floor of the meeting room, feeling as though there was something sharp in his chest.

He pushed himself off the floor slightly, leaning back on his elbows as he ran a hand over his heart. Nothing was sticking out, nothing sharp anyway. He was still intact.

So why did he still feel like there was something sharp sticking out of his chest?

He groaned in pain as he found a nearby chair, and rolled it out towards him, and pulled himself up using it. Toki sat in the chair, and put his head on the table, groaning again, "Ow..."

As far as Toki knew in that moment, he was alone. He muttered to himself, and lifted his head, only to feel shocked when he saw William across the table.

Toki's eyes narrowed and he stared at William, who looked ashamed.

"Your eyes ams not purple no mores..." Toki finally said, and William looked away.

"Do you know what happened, Toki?" Ishnifus asked, and Toki looked over to the priest, surprised to see him.

"I...ams not too sures, but I knows you ams dead!" He shifted his seat away slightly from the priest, his eyes wide and scared. Toki heard William sigh.

"Yeah, well we're dead too," William said, slouching in his chair, his eyes looking up at the screen following the survivors. "Ask weird dead Santa about it."

Toki blinked a few times, as he looked over to the screen William was looking at. On it were Nathan, and Pickles, huddled in a circle talking about something. Skwisgaar was off to the side, looking visually upset. He looked like he had been crying.

The screen continued to show the three remaining members, as they headed towards what looked like the Church of the Black Klok, and were greeted by Charles in his robes. The four of them talked, with Nathan visually angry, Pickles visually confused, and Skwisgaar not reacting to anything. Charles just listened, and nodded.

Something else seemed off. They all seemed...older. Minus Charles. Which was weird.

Ishnifus started to explain once more what had happened. Toki and William listened intently as the past-priest talked about the traitor and the Half Man. The battle had begun, and Toki and William were the first casualties.

He explained something else: "You can't leave this room. Not yet. Consider this a...waiting room."

"When can we?" Toki asked.

"When you have all been reunited. The five of you."

"So you are saying we are stuck here until they all die?" William asked, angry, "and we have to sit here and watch it happen?"

"An hour here is a year in the real world." The rest of his meaning, that they wouldn't be waiting long, went unsaid.

Before them on the screen, a battle was playing out. Blood was shed. People were dying. What remained of Dethklok fought as they recruited people to their cause. They aged. Charles stayed the same.

It was hopeless, watching it all play out like this. There was nothing Toki or William could do. Nothing. All they could do was sit, watch, and wait.

An hour passed.

It appeared that after a year, things were only getting worse.

They watched as Skwisgaar became a hardened man, focused on revenge and battle more than focusing on his own well-being. The guitarist fought with anger fueling him, taking out men twice his size, using any blunt instrument he could find to aide him. His guitar was long gone, and what took its place was a man who went into a blind rage, unable to control himself when he became overwhelmed with grief.

They watched as Nathan took up guns, shooting the enemy clear between the eyes with no remorse, but struggled with the pain of wounds once the battle was through. The front man screamed as he ran head first into groups of the enemy, and killed them mercifully, though he didn't seem to take any pleasure in the act.

They watched as Pickles screamed and sliced his way through hordes of the Half Man's troops, leaving limbs and blood in his wake, but became silent once it was over and they had retreated back to their safe zone. The drummer no longer drank, apparently feeling like he needed to keep his wits about him, though that didn't help blocking out the memories. Because of the lack of loss of memory, he would go into a strange state where he would zone out and just kill anyone who crossed his path – the remaining members seemed to avoid Pickles whenever that happened.

They also watched as Charles never aged, but became more ruthless. They watched him come into his own with his powers, taking down hundreds of men with a flick of his wrists. They watched as Charles planned out battles, conferring with the other three as the next course of action. The newly appointed Priest fought with more conviction that he ever had before as if he felt he had something to prove. As if he blamed himself for everything.

Toki and William watched from their seats, unable to pull themselves away from what was unfolding.

They saw everything.

Battle after battle.

Death after death.

It was getting to be too hard to watch.

For William and Toki, it had only been a little over two hours.

For those who still fought, it had been almost two and a half years, and things were not getting better.


	2. Chapter 2

This is a pseudo-sequel to "Trust Me, I Tried", essentially taking that short story and expanding on it (and elaborating as it were). I recommend reading "Trust Me, I Tried" before reading this!

**Warning:** Contains major character deaths, weird lore, and sometimes bad jokes.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

It had been two and a half years since it started.

Well, it had been two years, six months, fourteen days, and around seventeen hours since it had started.

Not that Skwisgaar was keeping track. He wasn't. Not in the slightest.

The four of them had moved around so much in the past few years that even Skwisgaar didn't know where he was anymore. He thought maybe Brazil, but Pickles told him that was wrong, they were in Texas. So, that just proved Skwisgaar still didn't know his geography.

Or, that he just didn't care anymore.

Before everything fell to shit, Skwisgaar had always felt like he had an air of superiority. He was the fastest guitarist in the world; he was idolized by millions of women (and men). He was in the most famous death metal band in the world. He had done some pretty crazy shit, and he was one of the only few people who remained standing after it was all said and done.

Hell, he had been hit by some weird light, and ended up getting some powers, so that had been good. Except for one thing: the powers only seemed to work when the five of them were together, and now that two of them were dead, that became useless.

_Two of them were dead_. When Skwisgaar was alone at night with his thoughts, that was usually what he thought of. Both Murderface and Toki were dead – though there was a weird person living in Murderface's body now, so they all still saw him at every battle.

Skwisgaar had been watching him closely for two years now, and watching how the Traitor – as he was called now – fought. He was training so he could defeat the Traitor once and for all for what he did.

The traitor had taken over Murderface, but he had murdered Toki. Right in front of everyone. Right in front of Skwisgaar.

That was the one thing Skwisgaar always saw when he closed his eyes at night. Toki screaming and reaching out for him, and he was always too slow to save him. It was a sick joke, re-living Toki dying like that every night. It caused Skwisgaar to go into a blind rage when on the battlefield, when he was wearing his military-grade armor that Charles got for them all, when he had nothing but his bare hands and his anger to fight with.

In a way, he understood Magnus and his threats of revenge. Though, Magnus didn't see his best friend killed like this. And actually, Magnus also stabbed and hurt said best friend, so maybe that comparison wasn't the best one.

Still, he understood revenge now. It was all that fueled him.

Charles had started to warn Skwisgaar that if he didn't let some of his anger go, it was going to end up getting him killed, but those warnings always fell on deaf ears. What the hell did Charles know? He knew nothing of revenge and regret like Skwisgaar did.

And when it came to regrets, Skwisgaar had a few. More than a few.

Most of them related to Toki.

It was why Skwisgaar was so determined to end the Traitor once and for all, even if it would end up killing himself in the process. There was nothing else to this life now but this one thing. It was all that drove him.

Skwisgaar was always present in the war rooms – whatever room they decided to make the main control room when they got to a new location. He stood around whatever table was there, as Charles laid out the maps and Pickles pointed out strategic maneuvers and Nathan looked for the advantage points. Skwisgaar never offered much to the conversation, staying quiet, nodding when someone asked if he agreed.

He didn't talk at all these days.

Except for today.

"Ah, alright, here is the latest. Their camp is here," Charles was saying, pointing out a location on the map. He had shed his robes for the moment, as he usually did around the guys, and just wore regular clothing. Skwisgaar always thought it was strange that Charles did this, but figured it might have been to help keep them all grounded.

Despite the fact that Charles now seemed capable of just killing a man by looking at him a certain way. Yeah, that really kept them grounded.

"There is a forest, well there _used_ to be a forest to the west, we can come in through there," Charles continued.

"Used to?" Pickles chimed in, "What's there now?"

"Desert." Nathan shrugged, "Checked it out yesterday," He said, as he got a glare from Charles, but Nathan didn't notice it, "Forest is completely destroyed, but there is still enough destruction left over that we could use it to our advantage."

Pickles' nose scrunched up, "Cover, ya mean? I don't know, seems risky."

Skwisgaar was listening intently, but staring at the map, trying to figure things out in his head. He was the one who lead the ground troops usually now, Nathan had the snipers, Charles had the heavy weapons (because he practically was one himself now), and Pickles had the support. "Don'ts cares, we go in."

The other three looked up and stared at Skwisgaar with surprise, seemingly shocked the reclusive ex-guitarist was actually speaking. Skwisgaar didn't notice this though, and instead just kept talking, as he dragged his finger across the map.

"We sets up heres, send in our mercenaries peoples first, clear it out." He spoke, and continued on with his plan. It would bring them right through the back of the Traitor's camp, and they could take him out once and for all.

If the others protested, Skwisgaar didn't notice. He had finished talking and had already walked away, getting ready for the fight.

They'd leave in an hour, as soon as the sky got darker.

Everyone was set up, and Skwisgaar heard Charles' voice in his ear: "Skwisgaar, you need to be careful. I understand this is our first big chance at taking him down, but you need to tread lightly."

Skwisgaar was leaning against a tree, watching the troops at the Traitor's camp march back and forth, "I gots this," he replied, his facial features hardening. As far as Skwisgaar was concerned, this was their only chance at taking down a major part of the Half Man's army.

It was also the only chance at taking down the _thing_ that murdered Toki. Skwisgaar would get his revenge; he would risk his life for it.

"I have visual," Nathan's voice came into Skwisgaar's ear now, "The fucking Traitor is meeting with the General, east to the tent." It had been strange to know that Nathan was above miles behind Skwisgaar, looking through his sniper rifle with his fellow snipers around him, but it was also kind of comforting. Nathan had an attention to detail, this was no different. "I'll give you the go when it's clear, Skwisgaar."

It had become clear that this was Skwisgaar's battle. It wasn't anyone elses. This was his chance.

He waited. Then, Nathan gave his go, and Skwisgaar hissed the order to his men, and they went charging into the camp with full force. Shots went off, and he heard a slice of a sword and found Pickles to his left.

"Go, dude! I got this!" Pickles called out, slicing off an enemy's arm in the process.

The camp became overwhelmed – the troops of the Half Man and the Black Klok troops got into a fight that turned into pure-bloodshed, as it always did. Before long, not only were Skwisgaar's men and Pickles' men there, but Nathan's gun troops and Charles' heavy weapons experts were there as well.

It was enough of a distraction for Skwisgaar to sneak away, and to find the traitor. The Traitor had just killed one of Pickles' men, and had his back to Skwisgaar. A sword from the Black Klok soldier was on the ground and Skwisgaar picked it up, screaming "You'll fucking pays for whats you dids to Toki!"

In one move, the sword went through the Traitor, slicing through his back and coming out through his chest, taking out his heart in the process. Skwisgaar pulled out the sword, the backsplash of the blood spraying across his face and next as he watched the Traitor fall to the ground, dead.

In that moment, Skwisgaar felt at peace. He felt accomplished, finally taking out the being that had not only taken Murderface from them, but his Toki as well. _His_ Toki. He had never been able to admit that to himself before. It felt good to do that now.

Proud of himself and smiling, Skwisgaar let his guard down enough to not see the next thing coming.

Once the bullet from the General's gun went through the back of his skull and out his right eye, he never saw anything again.

As Skwisgaar fell down dead on the screen, Toki stood up and screamed, "No!" He slammed his hands down on the table, tears streaming from his eyes. "No! Fix it!" He screamed at Ishnifus, who turned around to face Toki.

"Toki, you must calm down. This is the natural order of things."

"Oh fucks you! He didn't see that comings!" Toki protested, as on the screen Charles and Nathan came upon the General and Skwisgaar's body.

_Skwisgaar fell to the ground, just as Charles and Nathan stepped in, and Nathan started firing angry and blindly, as Charles charged the General. _

_The General shot at Charles but it didn't matter. The bullets went in him, but didn't hurt him, and it only served to push Charles on further. _

_He quickly moved to the General's left in a blink of an eye, and snapped the General's neck in one move. Nathan bent down to get Skwisgaar's body._

_"Fuck. FUCK!" Nathan screamed out, angry as he ran towards what they had all deemed as their central meeting point when the fighting was done, "We have to fucking get out of here!"_

_Charles was running beside him, taking out men that came towards them as they went, staying silent as he protected Nathan and Skwisgaar to the best of his ability. _

_Pickles caught up to them, and those who remained in their army after the fight followed suit once those who were at the camp were dead. The remaining two members of Dethklok and their ex-manager gathered what remained of their people and moved towards their next destination. _

Toki couldn't stop the damn tears from falling on his face, and he stared at William, who he figured would have made fun of him by now. But William was just as upset as Toki was.

He looked like he didn't want to talk about it, and Toki didn't either. What they just saw was horrible, and it was the first death (other than their own) that they had seen.

"Are you sure this isn't Hell?" William finally asked, "Because it sure fucking feels like it! What sick fucking joke is this?"

"I don't make the rules," Ishnifus said, tone showing no emotion whatsoever, which only pissed Toki off more.

"Where is he? You said they ams comings here, ja? Where is Skwisgaar?" Toki, still standing, slammed his fist into the desk, eyes narrowed at Ishnifus.

On the screen, Charles, Nathan, and Pickles held a funeral for Skwisgaar. The video then showed the three men walking away, as they talked about where to proceed from there. Charles went silent, Nathan said they needed to get somewhere safe, and Pickles muttered about wanting a drink.

A few minutes went by, but Skwisgaar still hadn't shown up in the room.

Toki pushed away from the table, and headed for the door.

"You can't leave! There's nothing there!" William claimed, and Toki turned around and growled at him.

"I don'ts cares! He has to be heres somewhere!" Toki pulled open the door, and instead of finding himself back in the conference room, he was in one of Mordhaus' hallways.

Toki walked down the familiar hallway until he stopped at the only door there, and opened it. It revealed his own room, but with Skwisgaar sitting on the bed with his head in his hands.

Stepping hesitantly into the room, Toki couldn't help his eyes starting to well up. "Skwisgaar...?"

When he spoke, Skwisgaar's hands dropped though his head still hung low. He slowly looked up, revealing his own face, tear-stained and upset, and when he laid eyes on Toki, he stood up and ran towards him and wrapped his arms around him in a hug.

"Toki, is it really yous?" Skwisgaar's face was buried in Toki's hair, his words almost a muttering, but Toki heard him and just nodded quickly, clinging to the blonde-haired man just as much as he was clinging to him.

They stood like that for a moment before Skwisgaar pulled away, looking at Toki, "I watched yous die, I ams so sorry, I...is this real?"

Toki refused to let Skwisgaar go far, and his hands moved to Skwisgaar's, taking hold of them and squeezing tightly as he explained everything that Ishnifus had told them. He explained where they were, how they were only confined to one room before Skwisgaar got there for some reason, and that they were stuck here until everyone else arrived.

"Until they dies." Skwisgaar said, his tone quiet, as Toki nodded.

"Ja. Come ons."

Skwisgaar, still holding tightly onto Toki's hand and refusing to let go, followed the younger man back towards the conference room, where he saw Ishnifus and William watching a screen.

Skwisgaar immediately lunged at William and started to punch him, "You bastards!"

William shoved Skwisgaar off him, "Is this going to happen every fucking time? _It wasn't me!_" He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Skwisgaar, who looked at Toki for confirmation.

Toki nodded. "It wasn't Murderface, it was someones else, I forgaves him already. It ams okay." Toki took his seat back at the table, and Skwisgaar joined sitting next to him, though they remained close.

Ishnifus explained what he knew to Skwisgaar, and while Skwisgaar was understandable confused, he seemed to accept it. Or, as much of it as he could.

"How long has it been?" William asked, looking at Skwisgaar.

"Almost three years when I..." Skwisgaar stopped, still feeling weird about the fact that he was technically dead. In Mordhaus. Which he saw get burned to the ground.

Ishnifus cleared his throat, "My friends, I'm not sure why we are all still here, but we have to wait to find out."

Toki whispered something to Skwisgaar in Swedish, and Skwisgaar looked upset. "You means we have to watch thems?"

"There's nothing else we can do," William said, slouching in his chair once more.

On the screen, the remaining survivors looked older now. Pickles' hair had a tint of gray to it, Nathan's face looked older and he was growing a beard which also had a tint of gray to it. Charles, as always, had remained the same.

They watched as they continued to battle the Half Man's forces, and trained new recruits. Some of the new people remained promising. Some of the new people died the first day in battle.

The more the men fought, the more worn down they looked. Even though Charles' appearance never changed, when the screen showed just him and him alone, he looked tired. He didn't look as determined as he had years before.

Nathan and Pickles were even better fighters than they were before, but even they were showing the wear and tear of what they were putting themselves through. They still planned each battle with as much passion as they always had though.

Just because their numbers were dwindling, did not mean they needed to give up. So they kept on fighting.

Officially, it had been seven hours since William woke up in this room.

Officially, it had been seven years since the Half Man took over the Earth.


	3. Chapter 3

This is a pseudo-sequel to "Trust Me, I Tried", essentially taking that short story and expanding on it (and elaborating as it were). I recommend reading "Trust Me, I Tried" before reading this!

**Warning:** Contains major character deaths, weird lore, and sometimes bad jokes.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

The biggest problem with being sober as much as Pickles had been lately is that it was harder to get into that escape mode that drinking usually created for him.

He needed to be focused and he needed to be able to see the task at hand - running around with swords drunk wasn't a good idea. He learned that the hard way when he was training with them years ago, and accidentally sliced off the tip of his left pinky.

So he cut back on the drinking, at least waiting until the fighting was over. He couldn't be accidentally cutting off limbs - or worse, killing their own - because they had so few people fighting for their side now.

With age came wisdom, but even he longed for the days that he was less responsible and not always held accountable for his actions. Hell, he longed for the days that they weren't leading a fight to take back the earth and help free millions of people.

That would take a lot of pressure off.

Even though it had been ten years since everything started, it felt like it had been longer. He had changed so much. They all had. Nathan's hair was starting to get grayer, and he was sporting a beard now. He kept his hair back most of the time, because having it down was causing a distraction and got in the way of his sight. Pickles asked him once why he just didn't cut it, but Nathan muttered something about keeping it as a reminder of who they used to be.

Yeah, Pickles understood that.

He had changed a lot too, his hair almost completely gray now - but it looked good on him, he was a silver fox (or so he thought) - and he was far more muscular that he was before. That was thanks to the fact that almost every day for the past ten years he was literally fighting for his life and for those who still survived around him.

He hadn't been driven by revenge like Skwisgaar was, and he didn't have the dethlight power anymore like Charles had, but he was driven by the fact that he wanted to make things right. Pickles felt responsible in a way for everything that happened, even if his fate had been decided by a prophecy years before he had even _joined_ Dethklok.

That prophecy thing always rubbed him the wrong way. It still did, even when Charles talked about it as if it was still the be all that ends all. What the hell would drawings tell them that damn life experience didn't? He was well aware there was a war going on. He was living it. He was fighting the enemy each and every day, and running for his life any time the Half Man appeared on the battlefield (which thankfully wasn't too often, because you can't really kill someone above life and death).

The pressure of staying alive, of helping others, of trying to be a protector - it was getting to him. Enough that he wanted to take drinking back up again, but knew he couldn't drink like he used to when he was younger.

He was older now, and while he might not be completely wiser, his body seemed to be. Charles said Pickles and Nathan had to pay attention to their physical limits now, they had to remain sharp and on top of things, but know when they had to retreat.

It felt like all he was doing these days was retreating. Lately they had been losing more battles than they had been winning, and while they were still able to recruit to their resistance, they were still bleeding people faster than they could train them.

It was getting to be too much.

They returned back to base after a battle had actually gone well for once - they had gotten intel that there was a small sleeper cell of the Half Man's men an hour away, and they had sent in people to take them out. Without Skwisgaar leading the ground troops (and that was still a wound that wasn't healing for any of them), Pickles had lead the assault. He planned it out, and Nathan and Charles had agreed to the plan. It went exactly as expected, and they managed to take out some higher level men in the enemy's army.

So, Pickles wanted to celebrate.

It took some convincing to get Charles to join him, but eventually he did, and Nathan came down as well, the three of them sitting around a table in the abandoned mansion they had set up camp in.

"Found rum, whiskey, and look Charle, even got you brandy." Pickles laughed as he joined the men at the table, setting each of the bottles down. There weren't glasses, and any small luxury they had, they took these days. So a bottle for each of them, it was something to be celebrated.

Nathan laughed as he grabbed the rum and slid Charles the bottle of brandy. Charles actually smiled, which wasn't something that he did lately. To be honest, none of them did. After everything that they had lost, there wasn't much to smile about these days.

"Hey, you remember when we finally got you to come out drinking with us?" Nathan asked Charles, and Pickles laughed.

"Not sure he remembers _any_ of that, right chief?" Pickles opened the bottle of whiskey and smelled it before taking a drink. The familiar burn warmed him up a bit, and caused him to sigh happily. He needed this.

Charles was tapping his fingers around the bottle of brandy, and laughed, "You're right, I honestly don't remember...any of that. I remember the fight earlier..."

"Wait, fight?" Nathan raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, Charles looked sheepish. Pickles stared at him, surprised to see Charles emote like this. He had been so stern for so many years now, Pickles almost forgot what it was like to see any of them just relax and be themselves.

Not that Charles had never really relaxed around any of them. Charles shrugged, "Yeah, there was a fight on the roof, ah, well to the death, really."

Pickles and Nathan fell silent for a moment before Pickles slammed his hand on the table, "I _knew_ that story wasn't true! Jesus, you _killed_ the guy!?"

"I didn't mean to! Listen, nothing was going to get me away from you guys, and I told him he'd have to kill me if he wanted to try..."

Nathan was laughing hard, holding his side, unable to control the deep laughs coming out of him. "This is fucking awesome," he laughed, "Holy fuck, you fucking killing machine." Nathan punched Charles' shoulder and despite shaking his head at everything, Charles grinned back and finally took a drink of his brandy.

Pickles leaned back in his chair, taking the bottle with him and rested it on his knee, "You know what's sad about all this, is that was part of the good old days. People dyin' around us all the time, we never batted an eye." He chuckled, "Is it bad I fucking miss that?"

Nathan shrugged, "Nah, I mean I miss that too. Not needing to give a shit."

"Hey, I gave a shit." Charles protested, but ended up laughing.

It all sounded so ridiculous, talking about the past and how things used to be when the world was so different now. Even where they sat now, this wasn't Mordhaus. It almost wasn't a house anymore, with walls blown apart, rubble everywhere. Pickles was surprised the house was still standing, but it still held most of their troops, and those that weren't in the house were camped outside.

It was a big difference from Mordhaus, and a big difference about how they used to live.

"Whatever dudes, I'd give anything to go back to that." Pickles said, thoughtfully pausing before taking a drink. The silence between the three men told Pickles that the other two thought the same, and they sat drinking in a comfortable silence for a while.

After a while, the silence broke and they continued to reminisce about the 'good old days'. They took turns telling stories, and laughing at each other. Charles even admitted he had been a huge Snakes n' Barrels fan back in the day, which prompted Pickles to drum out one of the songs on the table and Charles unashamedly sang to it, with Nathan laughing deeply the whole time.

It felt good to focus on something other than the death and destruction surrounding them these days - not saying that it didn't surround them before, but now there was the weight of the world on their shoulders. Being able to sit back, have a few drinks, and laugh about their shared history, felt good. It brought a better feeling to everything that they had to do.

At least, it felt better for Pickles, and that was all he really wanted.

Eventually, they called it a night - Nathan headed out first, wanted to get some sleep before the battle tomorrow, and didn't feel like welding a gun (or guns in his case) hungover. Charles mentioned that he wanted to go over the plans once more before bed - though the other two knew that Charles hadn't slept a day in ten years. Something about being the Dead Man with new abilities meant he never had to sleep. Or age.

Pickles was slightly jealous at that.

"Hey, chief before ya go?" Pickles said, as Charles stood up to leave the table.

"Yes?"

"Listen, I know this is a, weird request, but can ya promise me somethin'?"

Charles raised an eyebrow, "Depends on what I'm promising."

"When I die, will ya bury me with my swords? I feel like I might need them or somethin' after all this." Pickles shrugged as he stood up from the table, deciding to leave what was left of the rum on the table. "I figure I might as well be prepared. Ya never know."

Pickles' eyes diverted from Charles for a moment, in what might have been the only real serious part of the night. Charles just stared at Pickles for a moment, making no attempt to hide the sad expression that he held. It was a reasonable request, it was just one Charles didn't want to think about.

Pickles didn't either, but at least he knew it was something that had to be done.

"Yeah." Charles finally said, "I can promise that."

The plan was simple: they would pull out all the stops.

They had a chance to take more high ranking men, and Pickles wanted to do it out in the open, to prove that they had no fear of the other side. It was almost as if he had a death wish, but that wasn't true. He wanted to prove to the enemy that they weren't going to fucking back down. The Half Man and his army could take as many people as they wanted; they weren't going to fucking take what the Black Klok army stood for.

At first, Nathan thought the plan was insane. "You're going to get us fucking killed," he had growled at Pickles earlier in the morning, though he still stood fully behind the plan.

"It's fucking insane."

"It's time we got up there in the middle of the fight, Nate," Pickles had said, pulling on his armor, "We can't expect no one to fight for us if we won't fight for them."

"He has a point," Charles had said, standing by in his own armor – purely for show at this point – his arms crossed over his chest. "We can't be leaders of the resistance if we refuse to show that we want to lead."

Nathan grumbled and muttered something under his breath that neither Charles nor Pickles heard. Some things would never change.

Pickles was grateful for that.

Their army was prepared for the fight and were warned that this could get bloody. This was the chance they were waiting for, Pickles had told them, this was the first time they had a huge opportunity to take more people out since Skwisgaar had died taking out the Traitor. Much to his own surprise, Pickles ended up giving a rousing speech, telling the troops that they would fight and they would _win_. He felt it in his heart; this was going to be the biggest step forward in ending this war.

It helped knowing that Nathan and Charles stood by his side, completely agreeing with the plan and going along with it. Together, they couldn't lose.

They moved their troops forward, the three of them leading the charge as their army came in behind them, and ran head first into the fight. The three of them stood back to back as much as they could: Nathan took the east, Charles handled the north and south, Pickles took the west. Nathan and Pickles stuck to guns, Charles had one gun on him but was using whatever powers he had now to knock people back - it wasn't something that Pickles understood, and it wasn't something he ever questioned.

He was just glad they had him on their side – he didn't want to think what this fight would be like if they didn't have someone who could potentially match the Half Man. Hell, he didn't really want to think about what this fight would be like if he wasn't with those he trusted. He didn't even _want_ to be in this fight.

The three of them fought, and they fired. Nathan got a few right through the eyes, Pickles managed to get a few heart shots. No one knew exactly what Charles was doing, but whatever it was, it was working.

Until someone had managed to get between the three of them, causing them to separate from their position, the chaos around them was engulfing them fully.

Pickles took out his swords; both secure on his back and pulled both out quickly, immediately decapitating the two men who came towards him. He used every move he knew, every move he had learned from Charles over the years, and some that he ended up making up himself.

Maybe he didn't make them up, but there was no one around to question him now.

One of the Half Man's top Generals came running towards them, wielding two swords like Pickles did, and noticing this, the ex-drummer narrowed his eyes and ran towards the man at full speed.

Steel clashed with steel, and soon the general fell, losing his arm and then his head both by Pickles' steel. Despite winning the fight, Pickles didn't stop to celebrate; he knew how that had ended for Skwisgaar. Instead, he kept fighting, kept slicing, finding his way back to Nathan and Charles who had managed to regroup.

He reached them just as more rushed them, and while Pickles and the rest took out a lot of men, one soldier managed to stab Pickles in the side, through the soft part of his armor. Pickles fell to the ground screaming, pulling the knife out and throwing it towards the guy, hitting him in the back of the skull.

Well, at least he had aim.

Nathan and Charles protected Pickles as their troops surrounded them, Nathan and Charles helping Pickles up and falling back as their troops fought on.

By the end of the fight, the Black Klok army had won, taking out five top generals and most of the Half Man's army, taking some wounded men as prisoners to torture and get information out of.

Pickles had his arms around Nathan and Charles' shoulders, badly wounded but doing his best to keep going. It was until they were safe that Pickles struggled free and fell to the ground, landing on his knees, his hands planted firmly on the ground.

"Pickles, we have to keep going, we're almost back at the base, we have to help you." Charles spoke, his tone firm, but Pickles knew well enough that there was worry behind those words.

"I can't do it, Charlie, I can't go any further." His hand moved to where the knife went through, and as he held onto it, he fell onto his side in pain.

Nathan and Charles were at Pickles' side in moments, Charles helping Pickles to be on his back, and held up his head, as Nathan looked him over with a grim look on his face, putting pressure on Pickles' wound the best that he could.

"How do I look?" Pickles asked, choking out a laugh.

Charles offered a small smile, "It's not that bad, really..."

Pickles closed his eyes, "Charlie, just remember what you promised me."

Pickles went quiet, as Nathan looked down at the wound, and moved his hands, the blood completely covering his hands.

Later, they'd have a funeral, and Charles would honor his promise. Right now, they felt as though they couldn't do anything else.

The conference room was silent, as the four men in the room watched the screen and watched as Nathan and Charles honored Pickles in a small funeral, and Charles set Pickles' swords in the ground with him as he asked.

After a while, Toki closed his eyes and looked away, putting his head in his hands. "This ams too much!"

The silence in the room served as the reply, as William stood up and cleared his throat, heading for the conference room door. It had been a few minutes since Pickles had been buried in the ground, which meant he might be at Mordhaus now.

It felt like torture, waiting around for their brothers to die. It felt like torture sitting there not being able to do anything.

Slowly, more rooms had opened up to the four. William's bedroom had appeared in the hallway, and Skwisgaar's did too. Still, only their bedrooms and the conference room existed. They just had to wait.

Though, William knew what to expect by now. So into the hallway he went, and found another door had appeared – it must have been Pickles' room.

He found Pickles standing in his bedroom looking at a mirror – he wasn't the older man with gray hair that Pickles was in the video feed. He was the Pickles that William remembered, younger, skinnier, bright red hair. Pickles seemed shocked by everything, but seemed to be taking it better than Skwisgaar had.

"Hey ya, Murderface," Pickles offered weakly as he turned around to see William standing in the doorway.

They stared at each other for a little bit before, William gestured towards the hallway, and Pickles, nodding, started to follow him.

Their friendship had never been based on words when they were alive, but Pickles trusted him in life before, and knew well enough to trust him in death.

Besides, he had read more on the prophecy than the rest of them.

He had known all along that this was coming.

His swords rested on his bed as he shut the door behind him.


End file.
